Deniable Assets
by Gauss
Summary: Moira is a 'Deniable Asset' for the Empire in the same timeframe as the 'Wraith Squadron' novels. Chapter 3 added, June 3 2004
1. Thirst

Disclaimer:  I don't own the universe or the people in it.  I'm not making any money off of this, and this is purely a creative exercise.  I'm just having a little fun with it, what can I say?

Reposting Chapter 1, because there were a few elements of her character that I didn't manage to make clear.

Chapter 1:

Moira spun her body agilely to her left, drawing her lithe frame into one of the narrow doorways which lined the street, and taking care to tuck her _lekku_ as close to her body as she possibly could.  The Twi'lekki head tails were considered a rather exotic feature of the race, but frankly they could be damn annoying sometimes.  This was one of those times; when they amounted to little more than an extra pair of appendages for someone to shoot off.

Nevertheless, it took a great deal of effort to suppress the whoop of joy which wanted to escape her lips as the roar of blaster fire filled the street and innumerable blaster bolts flew past her narrow cover, sweeping away innocent pedestrians by the dozens, but failing to strike the target, her.

This, she realized, was what she lived for.  It wasn't about the size of the paycheck, which was considerable.  It was about the job.  It was about accomplishing a task in your own way, and being answerable to nobody, as long as you got the job done.

"Teer, get the _Jezebeth running."  She spoke into the comlink in her hand, "if I'm not there in fifteen standard minutes, I want you to make a break for it."_

"Did you get into trouble again, softskin?"

Moira smiled, Givin were legendary for their distain of anyone who lacked the mathematical acuity they possessed.  Teer liked to keep that image alive, in spite the fact that anybody who actually knew him knew that it clearly wasn't the way he felt.  In spite of his gruff manner, Teer was a vital addition to the team.  Apart from being a very capable pilot (while she could fly herself, he was definitely a lot better), he'd done most of the modification to their craft, an old CRF-76 light courier to make it faster and more maneuverable.  They'd sacrificed much of the cargo room to accomplish it, but they generally carried very little cargo anyway.  He also spoke six languages other than basic fluently, and he was the only man she'd ever seen perform hyperspace calculations in his head, although she understood that was pretty common for Givin.  She didn't fully understand _why he felt the need to do them in his head, since they had a nav computer.  Apparently he trusted his brain more._

"You could say that," she grinned as the hail of blaster fire died down.  Bodies littered the streets.  The Naronese police forces were famous for not caring what innocent civilians got in the way; as long as they got their man, or in this case, their woman.  She knew she wasn't going to lose much in the way of sleep over the death of innocent civilians, but to her thinking, that was collateral damage; a sign of sloppy work.

She reached down to the pair of identical holsters she had strapped to her waist, and drew a pair of Blastech DB-25 security pistols.  They were one of the oldest pistols Blastech still manufactured, and possessed a level of rugged reliability which was second to none.

They also had the added advantage that no Imperial force in the galaxy was known to use them, and due to their common presence in the galactic fringe, they were virtually untraceable.

Her grip tightened on the wooden grips that had made the pistols famous.  This was going to be fun.  The pistols, she knew, didn't have the power of most rifles out there, but they were small and light, and they didn't impede her movement.  For her, speed was a far more valuable asset than raw firepower.

She remembered to keep her body low as she ducked out of the doorway and took aim at her attackers.  The first shots, fired at what would have been chest level, flew over her head, giving her the opportunity to open fire at the two who were nearest to her.  She aimed to incapacitate rather than kill.  She preferred to keep the body count as low as possible.  The first shot she fired struck one man in the hip, causing his leg to buckle.  The second struck the woman on his left in the shoulder.

As the scene again dissolved into a chaotic flurry of blaster fire, danced backwards, ducking into a side street.  This was primarily a residential area along the coastline in the capital city of Naron.  Its population represented almost thirty percent of the total population of the planet, packet tightly in box-like residential buildings.

_Okay, let's hit the rooftops_.

A metallic stairway was bolted to the side of the building.  It seemed to be an escape route of some kind.  She ran up, her boots clanging noisily as she ascended.

It did not matter.  They would know where she was anyway.  She could already hear the pounding of their standard-issue boots against the pavement.  She heard them draw to a somewhat disorganized stop and open fire at her.  The stairway absorbed most of it, although it glowed red with the heat absorbed.  As she rolled onto the roof, she could already hear them racing up the stairway behind her.  They did not want to lose her.

_Of course they don't want to lose you, you've just deprived almost a third of their population of fresh water._

Naron was a somewhat odd planet in that every drop of fresh water had been exhausted.  The only remaining water on the planet was salt water.  The Naronese had developed a technique for refining Tibanna gas which involved bubbling it through water with just the right concentrations of minerals.  The impurities precipitated out, and you were left with a product ten times more pure than anything else on the market, so it wasn't surprising that the New Republic had taken it upon themselves to invite Naron into their little exclusive club.  With a product that pure, you could create weapons which were smaller, required less energy, and were more powerful.  But without water, it didn't work.  When the technique had been perfected, the Naronese had used the fresh water which occurred naturally in their environment, but they had exhausted it at a furious rate.  So, in order to maintain their industry, not to mention their population, they developed some of the most advanced water purification techniques in existence.

Moira had just sabotaged the water purification plant which provided most of the water to the capital city, rendering it useless for several months.

The talks with the New Republic were not going well.  It seemed that the Naronese didn't see what the New Republic had to offer them.  When the Naronese discovered that New Republic Intelligence was behind the sabotage of their water plant, they would, inevitably, jump to the very reasonable conclusion that it was an attempt to force them to the negotiation table.

The New Republic, obviously would deny these "baseless allegations" (she could almost hear Leia Organa's voice denying them), but what did one expect someone who was caught red-handed to say?

When the talks broke down, the Naronese would go looking for help, and the Empire would be only _too happy to provide whatever assistance they could._

Sometimes the simplest plans were the most elegant.

It took talent to frame someone properly.  You couldn't just plant an abundance of evidence at the scene of a crime.  If you made it too obvious, they would suspect a frame-up.  Most people, especially New Republic Intelligence agents were not dumb enough to leave incriminating evidence at the scene of the crime, and nobody investigating it would be dumb enough to believe that they were.  The secret was to construct a trail of evidence, sometimes based upon a single clue left at the scene, which ultimately pointed at the person you wanted to implicate.

And it went without saying; nothing at all tied her to the Empire.  Even if not for the fact that her very species practically excluded her from any service to the Empire (non-humans were practically unheard-of), three people other than Teer knew of her association with the Empire, and only one knew exactly what she was doing.

Even the identity she'd concocted for herself on the off chance that she was killed or captured would ultimately lead back to New Republic Intelligence.

She ran for the opposite end of the building.  She'd judged the distance between them to be approximately three meters.  A long jump, but definitely possible if she had a run at it.

"Teer, change of plans."

"Talk to me, Moira."

"I'm running along the rooftops parallel to the coastline.  Do you think you could give me a pickup?"

"That depends, what's it worth to you?"

"Your life."

She could almost hear him smiling over the comlink, "sold."

"How long?"

"I'll be airborne in about forty seconds.  I can track you by your comm signal, so keep the line open."

"Yes, sir."  She drove herself forward as fast as she could and pushed herself off the edge of the building with fearless abandon.  She hit the top of the next building hard and lost her balance slamming uncomfortably into the hard metallic roof.  _Keep going, the voice of her mentor sounded in her ears, __no matter what happens, keep going._

The law enforcement had made it to the roof and had started firing at her.  She had a lead of a good forty meters, the shots went wide.  Behind her, she could hear them running, attempting to make the same jump she had just made.

She rolled to her feet and ran.

She heard something slam hard into the side of the building she was on.  Someone screamed; their screams fading in the distance only to be punctuated by the sound of an object striking an unyielding surface.  Naron had weak gravity, but not weak enough for such a fall not to be fatal.

She jumped again, this time she landed a little better, managing to keep herself upright; barely.  She stumbled and only managed to regain her balance a few steps later.

"Teer, where are you?"

"Look over your shoulder."

She glanced over her shoulder to see the small craft, painted an ominous matte black, flying leisurely behind her.  "Bring her down over the next building."

"Yes ma'am."  The _Jezebeth_ accelerated past her, and descended smoothly a few meters ahead.

"Sithspit."  She could see as the dark form dropped behind the edge of the building that the next building was at least two floors shorter than this one.  _This is really going to hurt._

She flung herself into space, concentrating on keeping her feet under her as she sailed through the air, knowing that there was no chance at all that she would stay upright once she hit the roof of the next building.

The impact felt as though someone had taken it upon themselves to grab her head and her ankles and bring them into as close proximity as physically possible.  She felt as though her spine was being crushed into her pelvis, and her skull compressed into her neck.  She allowed her legs to collapse under her when she hit, hoping that would absorb at least a little bit of the impact.  She forced herself to roll forward, with limited success.  Her shoulders slammed hard into the rooftop, pushing the wind out of her.

But she was alive and it didn't feel as if anything was broken.

She rolled her head back towards the building she'd just vacated in time to see two officers jump off of it.

Casually, she drew the blaster pistol from her right holster and fired a single shot at each of them.

Neither received wounds which would have been serious on the ground, but the force of the impact was sufficient to throw them off balance in the air, causing them to slam into the roof of the building horizontally, or even headfirst.  She heard the sickening sound of bones breaking as they struck the building with a force not unlike that of a meteorite impact.  She swung her blaster up to the rooftop again, two more officers, seeing the broken bodies of their comrades, decided not to attempt the jump.

Moira ran up the ramp "Okay, Teer, let's get out of here."

The Naronese had not had the opportunity to organize a pursuit.  They had never believed that she would make it to space, so their escape from Naron's relatively weak gravity well was somewhat anticlimactic.

"So, did we do it?"  Teer wanted to know.

Moira nodded, "yeah, we did it."  She took a deep breath, trying not to allow the relief that it was over to show on her face, "Open a line to the _Kiss of Death."_

Teer played with a few buttons, "You've got it."

"This is Wyrrn, reporting success.  Anticipate breakdown of diplomacy within four days, Wyrrn out."  The Naronese were nothing if not skilled investigators.  Four days was an extremely generous estimate.  She closed the connection, knowing that the _Kiss of Death would not acknowledge the message in any way.  Even if someone managed to intercept the message, they had no way of knowing who the intended recipient was, and no way of knowing what she was talking about._

She always identified herself as Wyrrn in her communiqués, which struck her as appropriate.  The Wyrrn was an eel-like creature that lived on Mon Calamari.  Whenever they would migrate, they would pool their resources by extending a sort of umbilical to the creatures around them.  They could share nutrients, and oxygen this way.

But if one of them fell behind, or was threatened, his umbilical was severed, and the abandoned Wyrrn had to fend for himself.


	2. Negociation

Disclaimer:  Not mine.  The Universe belongs to George Lucas.  I'm just playing around in it for a little while.  I'm not making any money off of this, and this is purely a creative exercise.

Chapter 2:

_Nar__ Shadda.  As the __Jezebeth streaked between the tall towers that gave Nar Shadda its nickname of "the vertical city," Moira stood in the small room Teer had transformed into her quarters, decidedly unhappy with the image she saw in the mirror, _I really hate this place._  The moon hung in a low orbit over the Hutt's homeworld, and their general lawlessness had rubbed off on their tiny neighbour.  Its towers housed countless cantinas frequented by the dregs of society.  Of the millions who were on the tiny moon at any given time, Moira was pretty sure she could count the number of decent beings on her head tails.  They would shoot you in the back for the money in your wallet, and generally nobody would really notice.  It was the kind of place where anything could be bought and everything had a price; regardless of how illegal, immoral, unethical or fattening it was._

And interestingly enough, those were the things Moira liked about the tiny moon.

No, what she hated was the fact that just about the only identity a Twi'lek could adopt which would not attract any attention on this Sithforsaken place was as a decorative bit of fluff hanging off of some rich dilettante's arm.

This was a role she hated playing.  She hated having to appear vacuous and helpless.  She hated putting on the façade that she was incapable of taking care of herself.

Most of all, she hated having to be defined by her species.  Ironic, really, considering how often she _needed_ to be defined by her species.  Most people considered Twi'lek females to be far beneath their contempt; not worth the energy it would take to pay attention to them.  The few who actually saw her often couldn't describe her beyond "well, she was Twi'lek."  Her very species made her, for all practical purposes, invisible.  Definitely a good thing in her line of work.

But that didn't mean that she had to like it.

Teer, on the other hand, played a very convincing rich dilettante.  Most people discounted him as being one of the many pirates which frequented the moon.  Givin pirates, while uncommon, were not in any way unheard of.  In fact, what few Givin pirates existed were almost without exception very good at it.  Their capacity to survive in a hard vacuum made capturing craft more-or-less intact much easier.

"Moira, we're about to make a landing."  Teer's voice sounded over the speakers in her room.

"You all ready, Teer?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what, exactly?"

"Are you wearing the same outfit you wore the last time we were here?"

"Careful, Teer, I know exactly where to shoot you so that it'll hurt the most."  She tried to sound angry, and failed miserably.  That was just Teer being Teer.  He was also, probably, trying to put her at ease, knowing just how much she hated this place.

"And where, exactly, would you hide a blaster on that outfit?"

She looked again at herself in the mirror, trying to suppress a shiver that ran down her spine at the wanton sex-object she'd transformed herself into.  Teer was, unfortunately, right.  This outfit left practically nothing to the imagination, and exposed far more of her pale green skin than she would have preferred.

_I really, really hate this place._

Moira's mood hadn't improved much twenty standard minutes later.  If anything, it had worsened.

It was bad enough having to dress up like a common prostitute, but the _looks_.  It seemed as though everyone was attempting to undress her with their eyes.  Which, considering her current attire, took very little mental effort.

_I really hate this place._

"Easy, Moira."  Teer's voice could be gentle when he put the effort into it.  He knew how much she hated this place; how much she hated what she was forced to become every time she came here.

In his voluminous robes, Teer almost seemed regal, and he had the acting talent to put on the attitude to match.  His tough exoskeleton and skeletal features made reading any expression on his face nearly impossible; but his every motion, his every word implied that those around him were not worthy of breathing the same air as he was.

Moira realized that her body was tensed and stiff, and she forced it to relax.  She focused for a moment upon allowing the tension to flow out of her, in spite of the fact that she would dearly have loved to shoot the next person to look at her.

Instead, she put on her best sultry smile and pulled herself close to the small Givin; running her fingers over his bone-white scalp.

"Much better."  Teer's voice sounded amused.

"Don't get any ideas."

"Who, me?"  Teer had mastered the art of sounding innocent.

"So, tell me again why we come here?"  She casually scanned the crowd.

"A number of reasons, not the least being that this is where we come to get paid and get instructions for our next job."  He paused, "but for my money, seeing you in that slinky outfit is a good enough reason on its own."

"Teer…" Moira's voice took on an ominous tone.

"Hey, you can't blame a Givin for fantasizing a little bit."

"Care to bet on that?"

"Only as long as I'm holding your blasters."  Much unlike Moira's apparel, Teer's robes left plenty of room for a pair of blasters.  It made him a convenient place to have a weapon concealed.

Moira never went anywhere unarmed; partly because she lacked the strength or skill to defend herself in the event that she was.  She was deadly with a pair of blasters, but without them, she had the intimidation factor of a newborn Shaak.  It was a reasonable payoff.  She'd never considered brute strength to be as valuable an asset as speed and agility.  Sure, your average Wookie or Defel could tear your arm off, but they would generally find it difficult to do so if they couldn't lay a hand on you.  Moira had lost count of the number of times her life had been saved simply by not being where an attack landed.

_Never walk into a room you don't know how to walk out of._  Her mentor's voice again rang in her ears.  She'd been little more than a child when he'd taken her in, and she grew up learning what he called "the art of invisibility."  She'd never learned his name, but she'd spent nearly ten standard years under Tatooine's suns learning how to blend seamlessly with any crowd, and in any setting.  She learned to fight and defend herself, and she learned how to recognize the vulnerability of any security system, and how to bypass it.  He taught her how to analyze a machine or a device and sabotage it, and how to make educated estimates at how long it would be out of commission.  He taught her to leave no residual presence at the scene of the crime, but to place just the right evidence to point at someone else.

She had no memories of her father, and in many ways, her mentor stepped into that role.  He was human, and his association with the Empire was a closely-guarded secret.  He was one of the few imperials who didn't buy into the party line that "non-humans are sub-human."  "That's a load of Dewback-shit," he'd said to her.  It was shortly after the death of the Emperor that she'd left Tatooine, never to return.  She'd never seen her mentor again, and she often wondered what had become of him.

"He's here."  Teer's voice drew her out of her reverie, and she looked in the direction he nodded.

The man looked horribly out of place.  He seemed awkward and uncomfortable.  But he didn't look Imperial.  He spotted them immediately and sat down across the table from them.  It was a different man every time they came here, but it was always easy to pick them out, if you knew what to look for.

He looked across at the two aliens in front of him.  Moira noticed that his nose scrunched as he looked at them, as if he had smelled something terribly unpleasant.

"I'm to tell you that you did a magnificent job on Naron," he spoke first, "their talks with the New Republic broke down two days ago, and they have since solicited the help of the Empire.  The remainder of your pay is being deposited in your account as we speak."

"Teer?"  Moira turned to the Givin.

Teer produced a small datapad, and tapped a few buttons.  Then he looked up at her and nodded.

"Thank you," she told the man across from her.

"You think that the Empire would renege on this?"  The man sounded indignant.

"I always assume anyone would renege on anything.  That's why I'm still alive."  Moira's brow furrowed.

He cocked his head, "very well."

A long silence hung in the air between them, "so, are you going to tell me the next job, or are you going to make me ask?"

"Why do you assume that there is a 'next job?'"

"Because you would have left by now if there weren't."

He nodded, "Very well," he slid a datacard across the table.  "This assignment is higher risk than your previous ones, so we'll pay you twice your normal fee."

"Half now, half on completion?"

"As always."

"What's the job?"

"Do you accept?"

Moira frowned.  The Empire had never offered to pay her _more_ before.  They must really want this job done.

She nodded, "transfer the money."

"Very well."  He nodded.

"Money's transferred."  Teer announced.

"Everything you need to know is on that data card.  As always, …"

"I know," Moira held up a hand to cut him off, "we never met, this conversation never happened, I've never seen you before."

He stood up, "and good luck."  He turned on his heel in a nearly stormtrooperesque fashion and stalked out of the cantina.

_Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to need it?_

"So, where do I set a course?"  The _Jezebeth rocketed out of Nar Shadda's gravity well as Moira perused the contents of the data card._

"He wasn't kidding.  This _is_ higher risk."  Moira's face betrayed the concern she felt.

"Can we do it?"

"Oh yeah, we can do it.  It'll just be a little harder than we're used to."

"So, where to?" Teer asked, eagerly.

"Coruscant."

"Coruscant?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "when was the last time you visited the Imperial palace?"


	3. Penetration

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. I don't own it, I've never owned it, and I'm not making any money off of this. I really, really wish I were, though.

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

_The more things change, the more they stay the same._

Moira wasn't exactly sure who it was who said that, but it certainly summed up her feelings as Teer brought the _Jezebeth_ down to an elegant touchdown on a floating landing pad above the endless cityscape.

Her visits to Coruscant during the empire's reign had been few and far between, but during that time, she felt she'd had a fairly good handle on the planet. Her mentor had used the city's dark underbelly as a training ground for her. It had been the perfect place to train. The people there were practically raised to recognize imperials. If she could blend in perfectly there, she could likely blend in just about anywhere. The large stone statue of the Emperor which had stood at the foot of the imperial palace was no longer there; it had been taken down the night of the rebel victory at Endor. There was no longer a stormtrooper at every corner, but the surveillance holos were still active. And to her thinking, the difference between a stormtrooper and a New Republic soldier was only in their wardrobe.

As far as she could tell, the New Republic kept just as tight a grip on the planet as the Empire ever had.

The Imperial palace, arguably the single most magnificent building on the whole planet, towered high above the skyline, its huge pinnacles lancing upwards, slicing into the lines of speeders which crisscrossed the cloudless blue sky.

She took a deep breath as she looked at the gigantic tower. This would not be easy. Quite the opposite, in fact. The Imperial palace, which the New Republic had made into the home of their government, was designed to be impenetrable. Even she wasn't able to find out exactly what security systems were in effect, and what security protocols were written for the gigantic building. This put her in the position of having to improvise. Never a good thing in her line of work.

And there were rumors that the brother of Leia Organa himself lived on site. They said that he was the last of the Jedi since Vader had died at Endor. She'd heard legends of the Jedi from her mentor; but she'd always discounted them as little more than old wives' tales. She strongly doubted that he had the power they associated with him, but was not willing to frivolously make that assumption.

_Assume nothing to be false,_ her mentor had once told her, _assume__ any story, any rumor, any tale could be true, no matter how ridiculous it seems._ It was said that the Jedi had the power to reach into her mind and pick out her thoughts, to rip a blaster out of her hands from a distance, or to render it harmless with little more than a thought. They said that the Jedi could see the future, predict your actions. There were stories of Jedi blocking blaster bolts fired at point-blank range with the energy swords they used. Many of these were no doubt legends passed down and exaggerated over the generations, but she wasn't willing to discount some of them as being false. There were, after all, aliens with the power to see into one's mind. Predicting the future, she'd heard Teer say time and time again that it was merely a more advanced form of pattern recognition; much as the Gand findsmen would track their prey through the swirling mists of their homeworld. The Givin routinely predicted the brutal tides of their planet with astonishing accuracy. _The best _dejarik _players in the galaxy can picture the way the board will look six moves in advance,_ Teer had once told her, _if someone can picture the board ten, fifteen, twenty, a hundred moves in advance, what is the difference between that and precognition?_ She had very little doubt that the Jedi themselves had exaggerated the tales about them to some degree, or at the very least, they had not denied tales which they knew to be exaggerated. Often, what an opponent _believes_ you're capable of is far more valuable than what you can actually do.

His ability to poke around in her head did, however, have her somewhat concerned. She'd had some conditioning to make her thoughts a little more difficult to dig out, but she'd never had to put it to the test before; and wasn't sure just how well it would work. Even if it worked exactly as it was supposed to, it wouldn't stop a really determined invader. She'd heard stories of Vader leaving very little in the way of sanity in a mind from which he wanted to pluck information. She didn't know whether Organa's brother was capable of a similar assault on her psyche, but if he was, there was simply no possible way she would be able to stop him.

On the other hand, if she gave him no reason to be interested in her personally, he would most likely be unaware that she was even there.

Or so she hoped. At any given time, thousands occupied the Imperial Palace. There was simply no way that he could probe the thoughts of each and every one. Besides which, her understanding was that the Jedi's senses were primarily activated by a direct threat to themselves or those around them. If everything went according to plan, her mission would not harm anyone. With a little luck, she might be able to slip in under the sensors.

Teer walked up next to her and looked over at the towering palace.

"I thought they'd tear it down after Endor," he whispered.

Moira shook her head, "No, before it was the Imperial palace, it was the Old Republic's. They want to build their New Republic on the foundations of the old."

"So, how are we going to do this?"

Moira smiled, "I thought I'd walk in through the front door."

* * *

"Talk to me, Moira."

"Okay, Teer, I need you to get a few things for me."

The two sat in a the room towards the front of the craft that they'd dubbed the war room. It was the same room they used for their strategy sessions, meals, and just downtime during long hyperspace jumps. Teer was an amazing sabbac player, and Moira had always had the sneaking suspicion that he was counting cards in his head. She certainly wouldn't put it past him.

"Shoot."

"First, I need the absolute best false ID you have ever made. I need something that nobody short of you could penetrate, and ideally, something that even you couldn't penetrate if you didn't know exactly what to look for. Background history, career, everything. I need to have everything documented practically from the day I was born." She paused for a moment, "if you can find some way of having it trace back to an actual person, I'd really love that."

"Okay, I can do that."

"I'm serious about this Teer. Don't leave any gaps in this one. We're not dealing with a local security force. We're trying to penetrate the New Republic's most secure facility, do the job, and get out without anybody being able to trace it back to us." Moira frowned at him.

Teer held his skeletal hands up in supplication, "Easy, Moira, I've got it."

Moira nodded, "Good."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. I need a New Republic guard's uniform, and one of whatever blaster pistol is standard issue for NR security these days."

"Blastech DL-54. I got one of 'em in the back." Teer nodded. "I see where this is going."

"Third, I need some kind of shaped charge."

"What?"

"Some kind of explosive I can carry under the uniform, and one that doesn't require any kind of mechanical trigger. That'll set off the security sensors for sure."

"Yeah, but what do you…"

"And something that won't make too big a bang. I'm gonna be in the room when I set it off."

"Run that by me again, will ya?"

"Can you do it?"

"Sure, there are a number of things I could get that'll do the trick, and it'll take me maybe a couple of days, but…"

"Just get 'em."

"So, while you're in there performing an elegant sabotage, what am I supposed to do."

Moira smiled, "exactly what you always do, save my ass from certain death, then get both of our asses off the planet before anybody realizes what we've done."


End file.
